


Stranger Than My Dreams

by quiet_rebel



Category: From Dusk Till Dawn: The Series
Genre: Drug Abuse, F/M, It's just weird
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-25
Updated: 2015-08-25
Packaged: 2018-04-17 03:29:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4650582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quiet_rebel/pseuds/quiet_rebel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Season 2 spoilers; based on events that take place in 2x01 | “I’m a prisoner to my decisions/I’m a prisoner to my addiction”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stranger Than My Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> I was one of the lucky ones (?) who got to see 2x01 early, and let me tell you, we are not prepared for this season. So in honor of the dark, weird stuff that is bound to happen, here's my first of probably many season two fics. Enjoy!
> 
> Title is from "Prisoner" by The Weeknd feat. Lana Del Rey
> 
> Thanks to Taylah for the first read. 
> 
> Feedback is fuel.

Her hands.

That's what Seth first noticed when Kate climbed into the Corvette with him outside the Titty Twister. 

Knuckles speckled in red. Small, delicate, but not fragile.

She sat beside him, hands folded on her lap, silent as they drove away together. The sun peeked over the horizon, promising a new day.

**

His hands.

They shook when he took a shot of vodka. 

They never shook before.

_Before what, Seth?_

He didn't allow himself to answer.

He took another shot and another and another...

He didn't stop until his hands became steady again.

**

“Seth?”

He jerked awake, covered in sweat, the bedsheets tangled below his waist. Breathless, he squinted in the dark motel room to see Kate standing over him.

Her hand still rested on his arm. “You were having a bad dream.”

He rubbed his eyes. Bad dream. Yeah. Richie's fangs sinking into his neck, this time, pumping him full of venom. 

“Are you okay?” Kate asked, dropping her hand from him.

He scratched his right shoulder, an excuse to touch his brother's parting gift. “Yeah, I'm all right. Go back to bed.”

Even in the dark, Seth saw her frown, but she returned to the other side of the room. She got under the covers and facing him said. “I have them too.”

Not in the mood for a heart-to-heart, he turned his back to her to stare at the wall. She didn't say anymore. He closed his eyes, but it would be awhile before he found sleep.

**

Seth's dreams only became worse. They became so bad, he stopped sleeping. Like he was fucking living on Elm Street and trying to escape Freddy Kruger. If he just kept his eyes open. If he just stayed awake. 

He would be fine.

**

Knocking over a gas station should have been a piece of cake.

Instead, here he was, on his back with the cashier throwing fists at him and shouting at him in Spanish. Seth tried to lift his arms to block the man's attack, but another punch slammed into his face. Dazed and seeing stars, he groaned as blood filled his mouth. 

He had no idea what had happened. One minute he was holding his pistol, demanding the cashier to fill his bag with the money. The next, the cashier had jumped over the counter with an onslaught of punches and kicks.

Just as the heroic employee was about to give him another knuckle sandwich, Kate appeared. She pointed the barrel of Seth's gun at the man's temple.

“Alejate de el,” she said calmly.

With his hands up, the man got off Seth.

“Dinero ahora.” Kate pointed to the register with the gun.

The man picked up the paper bag Seth had dropped and walked behind the counter. He began to fill the bag with the cash.

Seth got to his feet, rubbing his sore jaw and wiping the blood from his busted lip. He placed a hand on Kate's back and tried to take the gun from her.

“I got this,” she told him.

She was right.

**

Back in the motel room, Seth picked up the half-empty vodka bottle and poured himself a shot. As the booze burned down his throat, he turned to Kate, who was sitting at the table counting their score.

“Don't do that again, you hear me?” he said.

“You mean save your ass?” She didn't lift her gaze from the money. Just kept leafing through the bills. 

“Hey.” He stalked over to her and grabbed the cash from her hands. “Listen to me.”

She glared at him. “No, you listen to me. The next job, you can't be sleepwalking.”

He scoffed at her accustion. “Is that you want you think I'm doing, sweetheart?”

Her gaze dropped to his hands.

His trembling hands.

He stuffed the money into his pockets and grabbed the vodka bottle. As he headed to the door, Kate asked, “Where are you going?”

“Don't worry about it.” He slammed the door on his way out. Outside, he took a long swig from the bottle, but his hands didn't stop shaking.

He needed something stronger.

**

When Seth retured to the motel room, the lights were still on. Kate sat on her bed, legs crossed, watching a Spanish-dubbed Western on TV. 

“I got tacos,” he said, setting the paper bags on the table. “Chicken, right?”

“Not hungry.” Kate clicked to another channel with the remote.

“Suit yourself.” He removed a new vodka bottle from another bag along with a rubber cord, then from his pockets, a lighter, small plastic baggie, needle, and a spoon he had swiped from the taco place.

“What are you doing?” Kate asked, scooting to the foot of the bed.

“You just go back to minding your own business.” Without giving it a second thought, he placed the heroin rock on the spoon and lit up the bottom. He watched the drug melt, then filled the needle with it. This wasn't his first time at this rodeo. 

After he wrapped the cord around his right arm, he tapped his veins in search of the perfect one.

But his hands.

His hands.

His hands.

Her hands.

Kate stood beside him with one hand extended, the other placed on his shoulder.

“I got this,” she told him.

With a small sigh, Seth handed the needle over to her. Her fingers curled around the syringe. The hand on his shoulder moved up—

_Small, delicate, but not fragile._

—and pushed his neck to the side.

He narrowed his eyes. “Hey.”

“Don't be a baby.” Kate slid the needle into his neck, right where Richie had bit him. Her hand lingered on his skin as the heroin rushed through his body. He was aware of her fingernails brushing against the nape of his neck. Electricity shocked his nerves. He rose, the walls breathing in sync with him. 

“Feel better?” she asked.

“Yeah.” He settled into the first bed he saw, not caring that it was Kate's. 

She sat at the table and took out the tacos he had brought home. 

“Thought you said you weren't hungry,” he mumbled into her pillow.

“I guess I was lying.”

As he shut his eyes, the drug letting him slip away from reality, he said, “Yeah, me too.”

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> "I don't know  
> I get so wrapped up in a world where nothing's as it seems  
> And real life is stranger than my dreams"


End file.
